Scars that Linger
by apple sauce
Summary: Roy Mustang's eyes widen with horror at the sight laid out before his very gaze.  The ever-familiar scent of hers fused with those of gunpowder, and of blood―- A RoyxRiza story, rated M for content.  Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would love to, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, nor do I own the protagonists of my story: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. It has been quite some time since my last attempt at a fanfic and it would make me a very happy person if you can leave recommendations after reading! I have been writing this fanfic for nearly two years but have never found the time to complete. Nonetheless, I am trying my best to come up with a suitable ending. Please be patient with me and most important of all—please enjoy!

Roy Mustang's eyes widen with horror at the sight laid out before his very gaze. The ever-familiar scent of hers fused with those of gunpowder, and of blood― the muddled stench burrowing through his nose, numbing his sense of smell. Her helmet had fallen upon impact onto the war-ridden terrain, revealing her beautiful, long, fair-coloured hair that had somehow found its way out of the hairclip that had always kept them in captivity. Roy could not see her face, he could not move. His gaze remained staring toward the direction from which she had fallen. He could see soldiers scattered throughout the field, and his attacker, lying only a few feet away, drowning in a pool of blood.

Everything around him seemed to be happening in slow motion. He could hear nothing, feel nothing, and his eyes remained fixed in the same direction. This was very unlike him, a Colonel who had fought his way through the first Ishbalian war as a front line soldier. He had seen everything, been through every terror known to man― yet still, he could not bring himself to move― it was different this time―

"Colonel!" a voice called from afar. Roy did not respond as he remained frozen in place. "Colonel Mustang! Are you all right? Is Lieutenant Hawkeye…" the voice paused as he approached his motionless superior.

Roy slowly looked up at his nameless subordinate; his eyes filled with… fear― an expression that had not been known to him. He knew what had happened, but he simply could not bring himself to acknowledge the truth. He could feel her in his arms, and her soft hair, dampened by blood, spread out on his chest. Her scent― one that had always put him at ease, one that he could recognize from a fair distance away― was now spoiled by the heavy stench of blood. Even through the tough war-zone attire, he could feel the warmth of her body, and of her blood, which continued to ooze out with every heave of her bosom and had by now completely soaked his own uniform, staining it deep crimson.

The sound of cannon balls firing in the background and the cries of machine guns as they spat out the bullets were muted in his ears as the only sound he could now hear was of her soft breaths which carried traces of pain, and were growing fainter with every passing second.

"…Colonel…"

He heard her called out to him.


	2. Chapter 1

A sudden cool breeze swept through the now near-empty office, sending ordered sheets of dignified documents flying to different sections of the room. Usually, one would be annoyed with having to reorganize the now jumbled paperwork, but not him― at least, not anymore.

After everyone had been sent to different regions, he had found himself finishing a day's worth of paperwork in but a few hours. He had surprised himself too, having finished his work so shortly― it made him wonder what he had done with his time previously, when everyone was still stationed in the same office as him. Now with everyone gone, he only had the papers left to keep him company, and he acknowledged their existence with his full attention.

Roy walked toward the opened window, carefully stepping over the blown documents, not bothering to pick them up― as to save something for himself to do later on in the day. Upon arrival at the welcoming window, he tucked his hands behind him and took in a deep breath, the cool air refreshing his senses.

How long had it been since his comrades were removed from him? A month? Two months? No, it had only been a mere three weeks― a mere three weeks that had felt like months. He hated to admit to the fact that he actually _missed_ his subordinates, even those certain aspects that usually annoyed the hell out of him.

He sighed heavily and closed the window. He looked up at the office clock, hung on the wall, right behind the table that Havoc used to occupy― four thirty-eight. Roy sighed again; he still had another five hours left in the office. Clearly, picking up the already reviewed reports would not take him five full hours. Annoyed with his remaining work hours, he sat down on his leather chair, crossed his arms, leaned back and closed his eyes.

He wasn't fatigued nor strained. He merely wanted a short rest―a rest that will take him away from the emptiness of his office.


	3. Chapter 2

"Colonel?" her voice called out to him.

"Hmm― just five more minutes, Riza…"

"… Wake up, Colonel."

"Three minutes, just three more minutes, Ri―"

"Colonel Mustang!"

His eyes flew opened as he sat up abruptly. He looked up at her, who was standing over him, her arms holding a pile of paperwork. "Lieu―Lieutenant Hawkeye?" his speech slurred a little from his unplanned dozing off.

"Finally, you're awake," she sighed at him as she laid down the stack of reports onto his table.

"What brings you here today? Forgot something again?" He ruffled his dark hair and yawned loudly.

"Exactly. And though I've already guessed that you would be procrastinating again, I didn't think I would find you napping in your office, with documents lying everywhere in the room. What were you to do if someone other than me came in?" she scolded softly and frowned, an expression that he greatly missed.

"Well, I guess it's my lucky day today then― Say, what time is it?" he noticed the room was quite dimmed, as all the lights were turned off save for his table lamp.

"Almost ten, sir. Weren't you supposed to be off by nine thirty today?"

"I guess I've slept a bit longer than I've expected― Do you happen to know if the cafeteria is opened by any chance? I am a little hungry…"

"I can't believe you've missed dinner as well… I believe the cafeteria in the West Wing is opened until eleven," she moved away from his table to the filing shelf stationed directly behind where she used to sit.

"Let's go. You should be off work too," he asked as casually as he could.

She turned her head and looked at him, studying his face. "You sure? I thought it was best that we―"

"It's only dinner at the cafeteria. Or, do you prefer―"

"The cafeteria is fine."

"Very well. Let's go, I am starving," he stood up from his chair and walked toward the door.

"Yes, yes," she smiled and followed him out onto the corridor.

They walked silently with one another, she, standing her usual two steps behind him. It had been awhile since he had last seen her, and to have her presence near him again, was enough to keep him contented for the rest of the week. The corridor was very silent as most people had already left for home, apart from those that were on night shifts. He turned slightly to look at her, catching only a quick glance of her face. His face tightened after he had seen her expression― though she seemed fine, her eyes spoke differently, and he could feel that her entire body seemed to have tensed up. While he hadn't had too many opportunities to observe her, he had found that she seemed to stiffen in areas where shadows lurked. He turned to look at her again, and this time, she seemed to have noticed.

"Let's hurry, I am starving," he turned to face forward again, and quickened his pace, hurrying away from the shadows of the hallway.

The cafeteria was smaller than the one located in the South Wing― the one he usually visited― and was as expected, quite vacant at this hour of time. After settling down at a table by the corner with their food, he stole a few glimpse of her visage from across the table before digging into his bland military soup.

She seemed to have become thinner and her eyes a little dimmer than usual. Something must have happened in the previous three weeks― the three weeks that he was not by her side. He looked up again, but her eyes were focused on her food as she ate silently. Although she was usually quiet, the silence that was shared between the two of them at that moment was troublesome and rather awkward. She had been very careful with her timing, so as to not run into him in person when she ran errands for the Fuhrer, and he acknowledged her intentions and too, did the same.

But he was fed up with not being able to feel her presence around him every day. It was difficult enough having lost Havoc from the team, now, everyone was gone. It was just him now― him, and the empty office. He admitted that King Bradley had certainly beaten him by one step in their game of power and dominance. And by removing his most important piece, her, and setting her in such a dangerous position was what angered him above all. He hated the fact that the only way he could protect her was to remain far away from her, even if it meant avoiding her.

Roy's grip on his spoon tightened as he realized exactly just how much Bradley had seized from him― especially her. He needed her by his side, not only so that she could watch over him, but so that he could protect her. No words could express precisely how much he had missed her company, her soothing aura, and her irreplaceable scent that he had always longed for. He yearned for her.

"Is something the matter?" Her voice interrupted his train of thoughts and he looked up to see a pair of concerned eyes.

"Of course. You were taken away from me and I want you back," his tone was light and teasing, but the words came from deep within his heart.

She paused for a moment before shrugging off his reply with her typical frown, but her eyes spoke differently, and he noticed.

Roy knew that asking her what that look meant would be out of line, but he couldn't resist, he needed to know― he needed assurance that she too, yearned to have him by her side.

"Lieutenant―," he stopped himself abruptly when he noticed someone entering the cafeteria. The soldier looked around the cafeteria and seemed to look relieved when he saw Roy sitting by the corner.

"Colonel Mustang. Lieutenant Hawkeye," the young soldier saluted his superiors after approaching the two.

"What is it? I am supposed to be off-duty right now," Mustang stated to the young man standing before him.

"Sir, the Fuhrer requests that you report to him immediately."

Roy looked at Hawkeye, and she too, returned his gaze― they both knew that something of great importance had came up.

"I understand. Thank you for your work," Roy sent the soldier off and began collecting his utensils.

"I assume that I am not to follow," she stood up and lifted up her tray from the table. "Please be careful," she looked at him in the eyes, her hazelnut gaze displaying concern.

His eyes softened in response to her concern for him and proceeded to smile gently. "I will, since my trustworthy subordinate is no longer by my side," he chuckled and she smiled. "Good night, Lieutenant," he continued as he brushed lightly by her side, taking in as much of her scent as he possibly could.

"Good night, Colonel," she replied as he left the near-empty cafeteria room.


	4. Chapter 3

Roy felt extremely perturbed as he entered the Fuhrer's office. He knew that the Fuhrer would not want to speak with him unless he wanted something from him, or rather, to take something away from him.

What was there to take from him now? After all, he had already lost his dearest friend and all of his close subordinates. Was he to remove Hawkeye away from Central now? No, impossible. She would always remain with the Fuhrer because the homunculi knew how important she was to him.

As expected, King Bradley's headquarter was empty, save for the man himself.

So, it was something that could only be heard by him, alone.

"Roy Mustang reporting to the Fuhrer. Sir, you've called for me?" Roy saluted the man in the room, who had his back toward him.

"Sit down, Colonel Mustang. I know you are not overjoyed to see me, but please, do relax yourself. There is no need to tense up whenever you see me," King Bradley smiled kindly as he turned around.

His words only made Roy's body stiffen even more so. He knew that the man standing before him was inhuman, and possessed superhuman agility and sensitivity. Roy could only chuckle bitterly in reply. He was unable to defeat him even with Fullmetal's presence, and now, alone, he was indeed utterly useless.

The Fuhrer sat down in his black leather chair and motioned for Roy to take a seat not too far away from him. "Tea?" the head of State Military offered.

"No thank you sir. I am fine. Rather, I would like to be home as soon as possible," Roy took his seat and stretched, trying to relax his anxious body.

"Speaking of tea, Lieutenant Hawkeye makes very good tea," the Fuhrer poured himself a cup of hot black tea, sipped slowly, and then settled down the teacup.

Roy slightly winced at the mentioning of her name, but knew that the Fuhrer had meant no harm and was merely complimenting his subordinate. "I must agree," he simply answered.

The room was still for an extended moment, as Roy did not intend to be the first to break the silence. Finally, King Bradley began what he had originally planned for the dark haired Colonel.

"You do realize that the war faring with our neighbouring country in the Southern Border had been continuing for quite awhile. I've received recent report stating the casualties on our part in the Southern Border. I believe the border will not hold for long," the Fuhrer sipped his tea again before continuing. "They had found a new weapon― a new form of alchemy."

"A new form of alchemy? But they do not know of alchemy― unless―"

"Exactly. The country of Xing had decided to side with our opponent."

"But that does not explain the new form of alchemy?"

"It's a mixture of our own with that of Xing's. The results had been drastic on our part. We've lost more soldiers in the past week then we've had in the past few months," Bradley pounded his fist onto his oak-wood table, the impact almost caused the tea to spill from its cup.

Perspiration began building upon the Colonel's forehead as he remembered that Fuery was transferred to the Southern Border. Especially since it was a warring region, all communications for low-ranking soldiers were completely cut off. He could not even confirm whether or not his ex-subordinate was still alive.

"We still do not exactly understand the full situation as to how our own alchemy had been leaked into our enemy's hands― But one thing is for sure, if I do not bring this war into full-scale, we will lose."

Drops of translucent beads slid down to Roy's neck, forming glistening streaks on his neckline, while his heartbeat quickened at the planned proposal to engage into a full-sized warfare. The horrors of the Ishbalian War seven years ago still haunt him till this very day. The smell of gunpowder and of burnt flesh returned to his senses once again, causing him to feel slightly nauseous, which forced him to grasp onto the arms of his chair for support.

"Of course, I know this war seemed to appear out of nowhere, but I can't afford any chances at this moment, not at a time like this," the older, dignified man paused slightly, before continuing. "As I do not wish to send all my State Alchemists away at once, I have decided to allow the State Alchemists to decide their own fate."

"And so you've called me in here today to tell me this? To let me decide my own fate? I don't think the matter at hand is as simple as I believe it to be," Roy replied bluntly, his onyx eyes burrowed through those of the older man who stood before him, as if trying to study his thoughts.

The Fuhrer chuckled softly at his opponent's accusation. "Sharp as always, Colonel Mustang. If you look at our situation closely, you may have noticed that we are quite short-handed with our State Alchemists― and some, unsuitable for warfare. You are considered to be a veteran of war, you know what it is, and how to deal with it. But of course, the final choice lies in your hands."

"Sir, I don't think anyone in their right mind would want to go through hell again."

"Perhaps I should ask the Elric Brothers? "

The young Colonel frowned at the implications of the Fuhrer's inferred threat. "And what if I don't go? Is that who you will send? Two young boys who aren't even completely through with puberty?"

"I don't intend to as they are children after all. I am a father too, despite being a homunculi."

Roy sighed and shook his head lightly. "I am sorry Fuhrer, but I really do not see an incentive in joining the team in the front lines. It is quite late now, and I would like to be home soon. Please allow me to excuse myself," he announced as he stood up from his chair.

The Fuhrer remained silent. Roy saluted the man, still seated in his leather chair, turned, and headed toward the great wooden door which enclosed the two men in the room.

"I have decided to send troops from all regions, in particular, the formidable Northern army and the Western militia," the Fuhrer spoke suddenly before Roy could push the door open. Roy halted briefly before giving his reply, his back still facing the older man.

"They are indeed remarkable soldiers in the Northern and the Western borders. If you were intending for that to be a threat, I am sorry, but it did not work. I am leavi―"

"I am sending her to the front lines along with the Central troop," King Bradley interrupted abruptly. "She had served in the previous war and had performed exceptionally well. Her abilities will without doubt be of great assistance to our―"

Roy pounded his fists on the wooden door, causing a loud thud, which resonated throughout the room. He turned around sharply and looked at the other man in the eyes, his dark eyes blazing with fury.

"To our what? To our cause? Was that what you wanted to say? Goddamnit― No one in hell would benefit from this war! Damnit― she is your personal assistant! You wouldn't― no, you can't!" Roy yelled at his superior, no longer able to suppress his tone of voice. He could not contain his anger when it came to her.

"An assistant can be easily replaced, but it is much more difficult to find a substitute for her incredible accuracy," the Fuhrer replied calmly, still seated in his chair.

"To Hell with this― Stop using those around me―! Damnit!" Roy breathed heavily through clenched teeth, suppressing his impulse to strike at the homunculi that had already taken so much away from him.

"Calm yourself, Colonel. I am simply telling you what I am about to do. And I think it is perfectly fine for me to make use of my soldiers correctly."

Roy was at a loss for words. He knew the Fuhrer was correct. He too, would have done the same. Soldiers were but chess pieces that exist to be exploited, destroyed, and then replaced.

"I am leaving," Roy shook his head and turned to face the door yet again. He could not win against this homunculi, at least, not at this time. He had lost this round. Before stepping out of the door completely, he paused in his steps, and gave his final verdict to his superior―

"I will do it."


	5. Chapter 4

He had not expected to see her by his door the very next night. Her elegant face was rosy and her breath short. She had run to his apartment upon receiving news of the war arrangements.

Before he could say a word, she had already pushed him into his room, and slammed his door tightly shut behind them.

"Why did you voluntarily enter into war? Have you gone mad?" she yelled loudly at her superior despite already running out of breath, her fingers clenching onto his collars.

Roy did not say anything, he only looked away.

"Do you know who we are going against? Have you read the reports on casualties? What were you thinking? …Look at me Colonel!" her voice started to quiver.

He turned his head to face her doll-like visage, one that seemed to be on the brink of tears.

"I am sorry," were the only words that he could force through his lips.

Her hazel eyes enlarged as she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She released her grip on his collars, looked down, removing her vision from his gaze.

The entire apartment went silent, save for the soft buzzing of the flickering light. She remained silent, as her eyes continued to face the wooden flooring of the room.

Roy could only see the top of her head, could hear only the faint humming of the light, but he knew that she was silently weeping― she always had her face turned away from him when she cried.

He wrapped his arms softly around her, pulling her deeper into his embrace. Her body quivered against his body and shook each time as her chest heaved, letting loose of her emotions. He pressed his lips on the top of her head, buried his face in her hair, and further tightened his grip on her. He had made her cry again―why was he always the one to make her tears fall? How could it be that he could make the respectable lieutenant, known for her strictness and competency, cry not once, twice, but three times? He was sure that there were many more times in which she had wept for his sake, but to show someone― to show him ―her tears was a different story. Though Roy's heart ached at the sound of her soft whimpering, somewhere deep in his heart, he was contented over the fact that she was crying for him― and perhaps this was one indication that she cared for him, not as a superior, but as someone she …loved.

"…Why do you always put yourself in dangerous situations?" She whispered, her question ending the long silence that had lasted between the two of them.

"…I am sorry," he mumbled through her hair, his arms still around her, unwilling to let go.

"…Why didn't you tell me..?" She spoke softly, her voice hurt.

"…I am sorry," Roy repeated again.

Riza pushed away from Roy's embrace and lifted her tear-stricken face upwards to face his. Her hazel-brown eyes were still moist and had a touch of red, but they were stern and determined― how her eyes had always been― as she gazed into his onyx black eyes.

"Sometimes… I don't understand you at all… I don't know what you are thinking… or what you really want," she winced slightly as she delivered those words, knowing that they would probably hurt him as much as they had hurt her.

Roy's eyes saddened as he returned her gaze― she was right. Sometimes, he did not even understand himself either. The vision he had promised his companions, the grandiose dream he had shared with her, of the peaceful and serene future he will lead under his instructions, seemed to be but a veil that concealed his true intentions― to protect those that he cared for, those that he loved. But, was it wrong for him to act selfishly? Was his desire to protect his loved ones such an unforgivable deed? Perhaps, for a man of his stature, but he was only human.

The apartment suddenly went pitch black as the filament of the already sputtering light finally gave away to darkness. Time passed briefly before the two could adapt to their new environment, as their only source of illumination was the pale moonlight, peeking through the thin curtains.

The two remained silent in the darkness, gazing into one another's eyes. Their bodies were so close to one another that as one breathed, the other could feel the warmth of their heaving bodies, slightly pressed against one another.

Roy slowly raised his hands from his sides and cupped her cheek softly. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the forehead, then rested his head on her shoulders as his arms wrapped around her once again. Riza breathed in deeply, drawing in as much of his scent as possible before returning his embrace.

He had not held onto her like this for a very long time. Even when they were alone in one room, he had never dared to cross that line― never dared to embrace her as he did now, for fear of destroying what they had tried so hard to construct― an invisible barrier that concealed their emotions for one another. But not tonight― he knew that from the first moment he had her in his arms, the barrier had already been broken down.

After taking in another long breath, Riza broke the silence. "I need to leave now…"

Roy disregarded her comment and responded by tightening his hold around her.

"I must take leave now― People will get suspicious―" Again, Roy paid no heed to her words.

"I really must leave now! Colon―" Riza's sentence was cut short as Roy pushed her against the door and kissed her fervently on the lips. Riza's eyes widened as shock overtook her entire body. She tried to push her superior away with her hands, but her legs gave away, and she slid down the door, taking him with her.

Seated on the cool wooden flooring, Roy continued to press his lips against hers, unwilling to let go of the presence he had always yearned for. His fingers entangled themselves in her silky golden hair, gently drawing her even closer to him. He only broke the kiss finally for a breath of fresh air, and she too, gasped for air. After she had caught her breath, she pushed Roy away from her, distancing herself from him with her arms. She looked at him with eyes that were overfilling with accumulated emotions. Tears once again, escaped her beautiful eyes and found their way down her flushed cheeks.

"…Why are you doing this... Why...?" She shook her head at him, her long blond hair covering part of her face.

"Always. I've always wanted to do this―" Roy gently held onto her hands, bringing them down slowly, removing the obstacle she had previously formed between them. He leaned in towards her, brushed her hair tenderly away from her cheeks with one hand, and lifted her chin up to face him with another. "Always, Riza…" He called her by her first name, the name he had long forbidden himself from using for fear of drawing unwanted attention in the military. Yet, nothing mattered anymore now.

He kissed her again, this time, ever so softly, yet the sentiment of extensive yearning still lingered on his lips―their lips.

"…Why now? After all that we've been through― why now?" She asked faintly, slowly pulling away from the kiss.

Roy pulled her in yet again, his forehead leaning against hers. His eyes took in as much of her as they could before sealing shut, barring the entry of light. "Because I am scared― " he paused slightly before continuing, "because I am afraid of what will become of the two of us."

He moved his head to rest on her slender shoulders and wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her body against his. "I don't have the confidence to say that everything will end the same way as with the war from seven years ago― We were very lucky― too lucky, in fact. Instead of us, it was our comrades who had fallen… Instead of us, it was our enemies that had fallen… But I cannot guarantee anything this time. I can't― If I could, I really don't want to go through this hell again― I don't know if I will be able to protect you― I am afraid of losing you―" Roy's voice broke down. He felt so ashamed that he was so pathetic and useless when he stood, faced before the Fuhrer. He couldn't even prevent her from entering into war, into a hell that neither of them wanted to return to. The woman he had loved all these years― the only woman he had ever loved― and he couldn't even protect her from foreseeable harm. And he had intended to become the leader of this country? How laughable. He was useless― utterly useless.

"Shh―" Riza cooed softly as she remained wrapped in his embrace. He only tightened his grasp around her, as if the moment he let go, she would disappear.

Sitting in the sea of silence and the obscurity of the night, Roy held onto Riza and cried like a child. He was ashamed of himself, not for weeping in her presence but for the fact that he could not shelter her from harm, and for the fact that he had purposely constructed a wall between him and her merely because of an objective he had wanted to achieve. She had always been there, standing two footsteps behind him, watching out for his safety while he continued to climb up the ladders of power and dominance, leading up to his dream. She had accepted the fact that their feelings for one another could never be acknowledged, and aided him in erecting the invisible barrier between them. And now, just like this, he had destroyed what they had tried so hard to establish, and simply dismissed all the emotions they had suppressed over the years in vain. He did not even consider her feelings before he tore down the wall, he had only cared about what he wanted― he was so goddamned selfish. Yet here she sat, curled up in his arms, still continued to support him, her warmth and her gentle voice, resonated throughout his body.

"I am still here." She called softly, her warmth reassuring him her presence.

And those were the only words he needed to hear, to believe―


	6. Chapter 5

In the darkness, the two of them, still seated on the floor, bodies leaned against the front door, made love to each other, again and again― as if trying to compensate for their lost time together, not as superior and subordinate, childhood acquaintances, but as lovers.

Their bodies rocked against one another in explosive passion yet their ardour carried a melange of fused emotions― of melancholy, bliss, exhilaration, shame, and remorse― why had they waited until now? As their essence merged with one another, their fingers intertwined, their bodies climaxed, it was only then that they could feel ―alive. To be in the embrace of a loved one was something they had truly missed, and had almost forgotten.

They had called out each other's names many, many times in their love making. They had held on to one another, their fingers entwined, unwilling to let go. Such simple endeavours― calling each other by their first names, and holding one another's hands― to them were deeds of substantial intimacy. As soldiers of their stature, their freedom to express their affection and love had been seized completely.

Roy looked down in front of him, at the face that he had longed for; at the body he had dared not embrace until now. Drops of cool sweat ran down his burning cheeks, down his feverish neck, and landed on her rosy bosom. She looked so― beautiful and exotic― her hazel-brown eyes burned with passion, her face, glowed under the pale moonlight. He leaned forward and nibbled on her neck before kissing her fervently on the lips once more. She wrapped her arms around his head in reply and ran her fingers through his black hair, her stroke gentle and loving.

Every time she called out his name, he would reciprocate; every time she whimpered from his touch, he would kiss her; every time she beamed at him, through her glistening eyes, he would run his fingers through her silky hair; every time she wrapped her arms around him, he would snake his arms around her body, pressing deeper against her; and every time she would cry and say that she was dreaming, he would reassure her that he was real, that she was real, and that their love was real.

In the darkness of the night, accompanied only by the dimmed illumination of the moon, the two never communicated words of intimacy, yet their expressions, their actions spoke just how much they cherished, held dear, and loved each other.


	7. Chapter 6

Roy woke up to the dimmed light, poking through the stubborn curtain in his bedroom, which would refuse to shut completely, no matter how many times he had tried. He had not slept this well without the aid of medicine for a very long time. He had wanted to stretch but realized that someone was curled up in his arms― she was sleeping soundly in his embrace. Despite being a Colonel, Roy's dormitory room was the same as any other soldier's, including the furniture provided― a desk, closet, and a single bed. He had always protested about having a single bed, how it was too small― but this morning, he did not complain, rather, he was quite contented with having but a single bed. Not wanting to wake her, Roy fidgeted only slightly, enough to shake out the gradual numbness building up in his body.

Then, he laid there, watching the sleeping woman in his arms, studying her every breath, her every movement of the body. Roy had never thought that a morning in which he would wake up to her being in his arms would ever arrive. But right now, he did have her in his arms, her cheeks, pressed against his bare chest, her fair hair spread out on his pillow, and her sweet breath, soft against his bare skin. He felt so at ease― despite the possibility of mornings like this ceasing to exist― he simply wanted to cherish this moment, its every single passing second, with her sleeping, held close against him.

The air in the room was chilling as it was nearing the end of fall; however, Roy was snug and comfortable with her leaned against him, his arms running down her tender back. He delicately ran his fingers gently across her back, savouring every second of contact. Riza squirmed slightly under his touch but did not awaken. Roy chuckled softly at the sight, but stopped when his fingertips brushed past what felt like a large scar, spreading across the upper half of her back. His eyes saddened as he carefully lifted the blanket draped over her back, revealing the semi-destroyed crimson array and various burned marks― those he had created with his very hands. These were the very evidence of the chaotic war itself and of the pain that remained with them even after the war ended. He carefully ran his fingers across the crimson array―and of the scar― again and again; his face grimaced as unwanted recollections came rushing forward in unstoppable waves.

The scent of blood, of burnt flesh returned to his senses as if the war from those dreaded days seven years ago were but experiences from the night before. Roy pulled his hands abruptly away from Riza's back, suddenly remembering just how filthy and defiled his hands had become after the war—hands that had ended the lives of so many—hands that do not deserve to embrace the one he loves.

"Why do your eyes look so sad?" her voice came unexpectedly, jerking him back to reality.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Roy quickly rubbed his hands across his eyes, hoping to clear away any traces of grief and sorrow.

"…Roy…" she called out softly as she gently placed her hand on his, and slowly removed them away from his face. Once his face was unconcealed, she reached for his cheeks and tenderly moved his face towards hers. Her warm forehead touched his, and her hands remained cupped around his cheeks.

"…It wasn't your fault…" Her words startled Roy slightly as he had not expected her to utter those words. She knew. She knew exactly what he was thinking―what thoughts were brewing deep within him. How was it that she always knew what he was thinking? How was it that she always knew what words he wanted to hear the most―and when he wanted to hear them?

Roy laughed quietly to himself before tilting his head and gently brushed his lips across hers. He pulled back slightly, only to look at her face. To his surprise, her face was rosy and flushed from his earlier doing. He laughed out loud this time— "and to think that I was just pondering about how you knew my every move and every thought!"—he gently pushed her down against the bed and pressed his body against hers before showering kisses down her neck.

"Co—Colonel…!"

Roy lifted an eyebrow at his title but did not bother looking up. "What happened to my name?" he teased her with his tongue.

"…! I…wai—wait!" Riza pushed him away from her, distancing herself from him with her arms.

"What?" he pretended to look annoyed—but really, he was enjoying every second of this. How often does he get to fluster his lieutenant like this? "Why are you so embarrassed? We've done this countless times last night—see, I can show you—"

"You're horrible!" she cried out as he laughed cheerfully before burying his head back into her soft bosom. After trying unsuccessfully to squirm her way out of his grasp, she surrendered and gave way.

"Sometimes, I just can't win," she sighed and focused her eyes on the pale blue ceiling.

"Now you know how I feel," he replied as he pulled himself up to meet her hazel eyes with his.

She smiled faintly at him before lifting herself up to kiss him. After breaking off the kiss, she nestled her body within his gentle embrace as his fingers running through her strings of silky golden hair. The two leaned against each other, within one another's embrace for a long while with neither party uttering a single word. A morning like this for them was almost surreal—and though they had questioned themselves countless times within their hearts whether or not this was true, the moment they had touched one another, their contact reassured themselves that all of this was real and happening.

The playful light poking through the curtains showered itself on Riza's bare back. Her pale skin glowed under the beam and her fair hair golden like a wheat field in the autumn days. As much as Roy had wanted to enjoy this blissful morning with his eyes shut, he could not help but continue to look at the woman leaned in against his chest. Riza was beautiful. Stern, yet beautiful.

"You. It's you, Riza," he spoke finally, ending the comfortable stillness.

"Hmm?"

"Yesterday night—you told me that you didn't know what I really want—well, it's you Riza. The grandiose dream that I've spoken of so frequently… it really comes down to meaning one thing, protecting those that I love, those that I care for," he paused briefly before continuing, "It is true that I had once imagined the world in peace and tranquility—but it may be an unattainable illusion after all… I've stopped lying to myself and looked at what is laid out before me—there is only so much I can do… Is it wrong of me to think this way? Am I…weak?"

The air grew solemn and neither of them spoke for awhile. The dimmed light that had once awoken him became brighter and more intensified, signalling the gradual dawning of morning. Riza slowing pulled herself from his embrace, sat up, and straightened her back against the wall.

"Is that what you really think?" she turned to look at him, her long hair covering part of her visage. Roy remained quiet, but he did not remove his gaze from her.

"I would not label those protecting ones that he or she loves as weak. Protecting someone requires courage, trust, and willingness. I do not see weakness in any of those characteristics," she smiled briefly at him. "I too, have someone I've vowed to protect myself. I am willing to kill, to destroy, defile my hands to no end, in order for him to remain alive, for him to achieve his objectives. I do not think my judgement is so muddled that I am willing to put myself in danger for a man who I believe is weak."

Riza brushed her hair away from her face and looked upwards at the ceiling.

"It is not an unattainable illusion. You know it yourself. I know it too," Riza paused briefly, the air in the room suspended and motionless.

"Colonel―no, Roy," she continued finally, as she lowered her head and turned to look at the man lying beside her.

"I believe in you."

And that was the last time he had seen her smile.


	8. Chapter 7

It was not until months later that he had seen her. She was sitting around a fire with a group of haggard comrades, eating silently from her canteen. He did not approach her. He did not want to look at her through the eyes of a murderer or touch her with hands that had robbed so many lives yet again. He too, did not want to see those hazel eyes burdened with grief and agony. It would hurt him to no end if he had to see with his own eyes the pain that she was going through. The war from seven years ago had affected her as deeply as it had impacted him. To relive those atrocious days again is to re-experience hell itself.

Though he had tried to track her down in the battlefield and had wanted to make sure that she was within close proximity to him, the ways of war made it nearly impossible to do so. Albeit the two of them were both placed in the front lines, one was to charge headfirst, while the other was stationed as a support for those with direct contact with the enemies. He burns enemies head-on, whilst she shoots down any dangers inching towards him. How ridiculous. Even now, she was still the one that was protecting him from the shadows.

With every passing day, Roy slowly lost a part of himself. He had forgotten how it feels to be human again. In order to remain sane, he had to remove any signs of emotions, ridding him of what makes one truly human, what makes him the man he was but months ago. He was no longer a man, but a tool― a tool used only for killing. It was all too similar. The war from seven years ago and the war this very day were beginning to overlap in his mind. The smell of burnt human flesh and the stench of rotting corpses were gradually dulling his senses and his rationality. At night, he would be unable to fall asleep, and on those days that he did manage to drift away from the living hell, he would awake with a fright that sends him gasping for breath. Just how much longer would the war last? Seconds felt like days, and weeks felt like years.

"Thank god we have the Flame Alchemist with us—without him, we wouldn't be alive at all," he would hear a soldier comment by the campfire.

Alive? They call this living? Roy would scoff bitterly and mockingly at the comment to his heroic deeds. He was no longer the young soldier he was back in the days. He cared no longer for ranks nor promotions. He simply wanted to stay alive—and to protect—but who exactly did he want to protect? The citizens of Amestris? The soldiers who battles alongside him? Or her?


	9. Chapter 8

They met each other one night inside his tent, or rather, it was her that went to look for him. Her face had grown thinner and her eyes, once so beautiful and radiant, had been dimmed by the shades of murder. He had hoped that they did not meet each other face to face, but at the same moment, he was relieved to sense her presence around him.

"Colonel—no, it must be Lieutenant General now. Congratulations upon your promotion today," she saluted him.

"It's about time. I haven't worked this hard in a very long time," Roy laughed dryly as Riza winced at his remark.

"I don't think that was very funny at all—"

"Well, it was only the truth. I could barely keep in count how many I've incinerated today. Was it seventy-two? Oh wait, I missed the two Xing soldiers by the border. That would make it seventy-fou—"

"Enough!" Roy was cut short by the sound of Riza's voice. "Why are you saying this? Why are you doing this to yourself?" Riza approached him angrily, but her eyes delivered only sadness.

"No, I have to. If I don't, I will go insane. Seventy-four. That was the number of people that I've killed today. But to think of them as real human beings would make me a murderer—wait, that's what I am right now, isn't it? I am a murderer. I was one, and will always be one," the springs under the cot squeaked noisily as Roy sat down with his hands clutched around his head.

Riza remained silent but slowly approached his bed. Though her military attire was smeared with dirt and her body stank of dried blood and sweat, he could still discern her aroma from all of the surrounding. He missed her scent, her hair, her soft skin, and her eyes. He missed holding her in his arms and feeling her gentle warmth enveloping his entire body. He missed her.

She paused briefly as she stood in front of him, as if wanting to tell him something, before she knelt down so that she could see his face. "Have you been eating right?" She asked instead, softly, as she removed his hands away from his face. Her eyes displayed concern and great sadness. It hurts her to no end to see him in this state.

Acting as if possessed, Roy reached for Riza's cheeks as he leaned in to kiss those lips that he had longed for what seemed like an eternity. As the kiss deepened, Roy lifted Riza off from the ground and laid her gently onto his bed. He continued to kiss her, and it was not until Riza moaned slightly at his advances was he jolted back into reality. He looked at her, who laid underneath him, in great horror, lost his balance, and fell off the bed.

"Are you all right?" Riza cried in surprise as she sat up from his bed and rushed to support him back onto his feet.

"Don't touch me!" Roy yelled angrily at Riza before she came in contact with him. Shocked at his sudden change of tone, Riza froze for a short moment before chiding him for what he was saying. "No, I said, don't touch me!" Roy shouted, his voice serious and cold.

"What are you saying? What is wrong with you?" Riza questioned, her tone exasperated and hurt.

Roy looked up at the woman who stood before him, arms in mid-action to help him up. Her long, golden hair draped over her slim, exposed shoulders. Ah, they have grown longer since the last time he had saw them down. She was still so beautiful, despite the heavy burden of a war—in fact, too beautiful and precious to touch and defile with his very hands. He was a murderer now. A heartless murderer. How could he have ever dared to lay his bloodied hands on her?

"I am tired. I want to rest now. Please leave," he turned his head away from her face as it pained him too much to see her hurt expression.

As it was late into the night, all was quiet outside the tent. There stood a heavy silence between the two before Riza finally straightened herself, buttoned up her shirt, and re-clipped her hair neatly into her usual style. She took a deep breath as if to hide away the quivering of her voice before she bid her superior farewell. Prior to stepping out of the tent, Riza spoke in such softness that Roy had difficulty hearing.

"I understand," her voice a faint whisper, "but please understand that you are not alone in thinking that way."

And that was the last time he had seen her cry.


	10. Chapter 9

It was an extremely hot day, in fact, unnatural for a mid-winter day. The heat was making everyone flustered and anxious, irritated and confused. The revolting smell of rotting corpses and pools of blood were further accentuated by the stifling temperature.

To Roy, nothing was worse than burning corpses on an extremely hot day. Not only was the nauseating smell of burnt corpses heightened, but he himself was becoming quite disillusioned due to the heat. His body burned underneath his heavy military attire, his throat craved for water, and his eyes, heavy with fatigue and sweat.

_No, not yet… The day was still not over… Forty-seven, forty-eight… Fifty? No, forty-nine._ Roy paused briefly in his footsteps as he tried to keep his count, before slowly continuing down the war-ridden field. As he covered more distance, Roy's body felt heavier and his mind muddled. His vision was starting to blur and he knew that he was beginning to lose sense of his surroundings. When Roy had finally come to his senses, he had noticed that he had stumbled upon an unmarked area, where no support snipers were assigned. Cursing to himself and his carelessness, Roy quickly looked around for fallen debris to conceal his body from enemy view. As fate would have it, Roy was standing in an open field which must have been a farmland before the war. _Shit—if anyone was to attack him in his state now—_

Before Roy could complete his thought, at the corner of his eyes, he spotted a moving shadow. Though Roy had turned towards the shadow upon instinct, he was too late. The blurred shadow had a gun pointed at him.

Die! You filthy murderer! He had heard the shadow screamed out at him before the sound of gunfire went off. One, two—Roy counted the shots. He had closed his eyes, waiting for the bullets to pierce his heart and the pain to shoot throughout his body.

Thud. A sudden weight fell against his chest.

There was no pain. There was no blood. There was her scent. No. No, it couldn't be.

Roy Mustang's eyes widen with horror at the sight laid out before his very gaze. The ever-familiar scent of hers fused with those of gunpowder, and of blood― the muddled stench burrowing through his nose, numbing his sense of smell. Her helmet had fallen upon impact onto the war-ridden terrain, revealing her beautiful, long, fair-coloured hair that had somehow found its way out of the hairclip that had always kept them in captivity. Roy could not see her face, he could not move. His gaze remained staring toward the direction from which she had fallen. He could see soldiers scattered throughout the field, and his attacker, lying only a few feet away, drowning in a pool of blood.

_No. No! It couldn't be. Why was she here? She should be assigned in one of the buildings further east. No, this couldn't be her. It couldn't be._

"Colonel!" a voice called from afar. Roy did not respond as he remained frozen in place. "Colonel Mustang! Are you all right? Is Lieutenant Hawkeye…" the voice paused as he approached his motionless superior.

_No. He did not just call her name. No. What are you talking about, damnit? This isn't her. She isn't here! You bastard! Don't you dare call her name!_

But no matter how many times Roy had told himself that the woman lying in his arms was not the woman he loves, he knew that he was only lying to himself. He knew exactly what had happened, and he knew exactly that it was her the moment her body collided with his. He simply could not bring himself to acknowledge the truth. He could feel her in his arms, and her soft hair, dampened by blood, spread out on his chest. Her scent― one that had always put him at ease, one that he could recognize from a fair distance away― was now spoiled by the heavy stench of blood. Even through the tough war-zone attire, he could feel the warmth of her body, and of her blood, which continued to ooze out with every heave of her bosom and had by now completely soaked his own uniform, staining it deep crimson.

The sound of cannon balls firing in the background and the cries of machine guns as they spat out the bullets were muted in his ears as the only sound he could now hear was of her soft breaths which carried traces of pain, and were growing fainter with every passing second.

"…Colonel…"

He heard her called out to him. She had struggled to lift her hands to his face.

"…I am sorry," she whispered softly as she gently caressed his cheeks before her strength gave way and her arm came crashing downwards, onto the ground, coloured crimson by her own blood.


	11. Chapter 10

Riza was immediately rushed to the base camp, where the medics were situated. She had lost large amounts of blood and had lost consciousness long before she was treated properly. Roy had returned to base camp with her, but there was little he could do other than waiting outside the tent, designated as the emergency room.

The sky had darkened by the time the doctor exited from the emergency room. Roy stood up from the ground and approached the doctor.

"How is she? Is she safe?" his voice concerned and his mind restless.

"She is in an incredibly weak situation at this moment. She had lost too much blood before she was transported here. And besides… " the doctor lowered his gaze.

"And besides?"

"No, sorry, I've lost track of my thoughts. I will be watching over her tonight, but if her conditions do not improve, we will need to send her back to Central immediately."

"Thank you, doctor. Thank you. Please make sure that she will receive the best care possible. I am entrusting her in your arms. Please, save her," Roy pleaded, something he has probably never done in his life.

"We will do our very best to save her, well then, I should get back to tending other patients," the doctor turned away and began walking back to the emergency room. "Wait…"

Roy turned around to face the doctor again.

"No, it's nothing. Take care of yourself, son," the doctor quickly disappeared behind the tent.

Roy had wanted to visit Riza in the emergency tent, but he could not bring himself to see her—not after what he had done to her. First, he had hurt her, and now, his very presence had placed her in utmost harm, and almost took her life. What the hell was he doing? Was he not supposed to be in the war so that he could protect her? Roy chucked his canteen violently across the tent he was staying in and sat down noisily on his cot. _Damnit, Roy, what the hell are you doing? Just how useless and stupid can you be? Look at what you've done to her. Were the scars you've given her on her back not enough? Must you make her carry more scars as souvenirs from a living hell? Go fuck yourself. Why aren't you the one who was shot? You deserved it. It should have been you._

Anguish tears ran down Roy's cheeks and he quickly wiped them away. But no matter how many times he wiped away his tears, Roy could not wipe the sense of guilt away. No, he must see her. As ashamed as he was with himself, he could not bear the thought of her lying alone in the tent all by herself. The least he could do was to be there with her. Hell, who was he to kid with? He was the one that needed her presence around him. He was the one that needed to be comforted.

Without delay, Roy made his way to the emergency tent. The place was much larger than he had imagined, and he was surprised how well the tent was partitioned, each patient having their own private space. Before reaching Riza's corner, Roy paused to calm his nerves down. But as he stood in front of the dividing screen, he heard voices coming from inside the room.

"I still think we should have told him. He had the right to know," the voice was faint, but recognizable. It belonged to the doctor that had treated Riza.

"No, she told us not to say anything to anyone, including him. We should respect her wishes. Besides, I don't think now would be the best time to let him know. Not when they are both trying to survive in this living hell. She must have known the moment the bullets hit her… Poor girl," another voice spoke with great sadness.

"There is nothing we can do about that. What we must concentrate on is making sure that she lives. We wouldn't want to lose the both of them. Now, it's late into the night. Let's hurry and check up the rest of the patients. It's about time we get some rest and call in the next group on shift," the doctor comforted his comrade softly.

Roy was outside the emergency tent before the doctors left to do their rounds. His palms were sweaty and his throat was dry. His heart was pounding and he had trouble breathing properly. He wasn't sure why the conversation he had overheard sent chills down his back. He knew that something was amiss—but he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Catching his breath, Roy struggled to get this thoughts organized. Both? What did they mean by both? No, he had to make sure what they meant. The "he" they had mentioned, did they mean him? What was it that they were hiding from him? What was it that _she_ had wanted to hide from him?

"Oh my, if it isn't Colonel—forgive me, I can never get titles straight in a war, as it is constantly changing," a voice suddenly called out from behind him. Roy jumped at the sudden presence of the doctor. "Lieutenant General Mustang, are you here to see Lieutenant Hawkeye? It is late now, perhaps it is best you visit her tomorrow morning."

Roy slowly turned towards the doctor. There were two of them. The one accompanying the doctor he had met earlier was a female doctor in her early forties. She seemed rather shocked to find him at the entrance.

"Doctor. I—" Roy's voice cracked. Roy was ashamed of his cowardice. Hell, what was he so afraid of finding out? He looked straight at the doctors, but his mind was elsewhere, his eyes were blank.

"? What is it? Are you feeling unfit?" the doctor, concerned, approached him slowly. "Your breaths are awfully short. Did something happen?"

Roy took a step backwards and shook his head. He had to get a grip of himself. Taking a deep breath, Roy looked at the doctors again, but this time, his eyes were determined. He was not to run away from this. He had to know the truth.

"I need to know."


	12. Chapter 11

Riza was sleeping soundly by the time Roy slipped into her room. He stood beside her bed and looked at her in silence. His shadow, cast by the candle, loomed over Riza's visage.

A drop of transparent fluid fell onto her cheeks. Followed by another, and another. There was no end to the source. There was no end to Roy's sorrow. Roy was crying.

"I need to know the truth. Please, doctor," Roy's voice quivered in the dark, but he was not going to let it go. He was determined to find out the truth.

The doctors were silent for a long while. There was a slight shuffle from the female doctor as she looked rather uncomfortable with the situation.

"And I shall tell you," the male doctor finally broke the silence.

"No! You mustn't! We had promised her!" the female doctor gasped at her colleague.

"What good is it to hide from him now? Are we to let her carry the burden herself? The least we could do is have someone there to share her pain," he turned from the woman and looked at Roy in the eyes. "As a father, you have every right to know."

Roy wiped the tears away from his eyes. He gently laid his hands on Riza's forehead before lowering his lips and softly kissing her on the lips. I am sorry. I am so sorry Riza… Roy buried his face beside hers in her pillow and wept.

"_She came into war being a few weeks pregnant. She was shocked too, when we had first told her about her condition, but she had decided to remain on duty."_

"_A very strong woman. She didn't want anyone to know. Even you. She didn't want anything to distract you. She didn't—" _the female doctor choked.

"_She came by on a regular basis to make sure that everything was progressing well. She really took care of herself and of her—no, both yours and her child."_

Our child. Roy whispered into Riza's right ear.

"_She always looked so happy when she came in for check-ups. She told us that the only thing that was keeping her sane was the child growing inside her. She had found a reason to live, to survive this hell."_ The doctor's words echoed in Roy's head.

"And yet I made you choose. I made you choose between our child and me," Roy's voice broke down as angry tears began to run down his cheeks yet again. He was devastated. He hated himself for being the one to take away Riza's happiness. No, had he known. Their happiness. The attestation of their love.

"I am sorry… I am so sorry…" Roy's words of apology, filled with regret and anger, echoed late into the night.


End file.
